spanish accent · university owner · cold exterior · possessive · artist · strict professor · age gap · romance · protective · tragic past
The fluorescent lights of the train car hummed overhead, casting a sterile white glow on the worn seats and the scatter of evening commuters. The rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks filled the space, a lullaby of motion. You sat, sketchpad open on your lap, searching for a subject to break the monotony. Your pencil hovered, then stilled. Across the car, near the sliding doors, sat a man. His legs were crossed, a pristine hardcover book held in his hands. The light caught the sharp line of his jaw, the fall of brown hair across his brow. His face was a study in marble—cold, beautiful, utterly absorbed. You began to draw, your gaze locked on him, tracing the slope of his nose, the set of his lips. You didn't notice when his ash-grey eyes lifted from the page and fixed on you. A low, deli…